


If You Give A Monster A S'more...

by little_spooks



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Camping, F/M, Fluff, NSFW, PWP, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 21:04:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11388375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_spooks/pseuds/little_spooks
Summary: Annabeth smacks his arm with a pillow. “Some demigod you are. Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, defeated by a weekend hike.”Percy grabs the pillow and covers his face with it. “You’re wounding my pride.”“I know how to make you get over it,” Annabeth says mischievously.She sits up and puts one long leg over Percy’s hips, straddling him. Her hands creep upwards under his shirt, feeling his warm skin under her fingertips.Percy peeks out from under the pillow. “I’m listening.”





	If You Give A Monster A S'more...

The camping trip is, fundamentally, a disaster. 

There are not enough blankets. It’s raining. Monsters. At some point in the hike, half the food rations fell out of the backpack. There are bears. Well, not actually. But there probably will be, considering how the trip is going so far.

But---Percy does not consider the trip wholly unsuccessful. He is, after all, curled in a tent with Annabeth, and there’s nothing more he really wants.  
Well. A proper dinner would be nice. Also a slightly more waterproof tent. But on the whole, he is satisfied. 

Plus, they salvaged the most important item—

“S’mores!” Annabeth brandishes the packages of chocolate and graham crackers excitedly.

“No camping trip is complete without them,” Percy agrees, lighting a small fire. “Also, this fire is completely inadvisable.”

“Well, I’m not sitting out in the rain to roast marshmallows.”

“If we set our tent on fire I am blaming you.”

“I can accept that. If it happens, it will be for a worthy cause.”

Percy stabs a marshmallow with a stick and brandishes it like a sword. “I challenge you to a marshmallow duel.”

“May the best marshmallow win.”

In the end, the decide it’s a draw. Annabeth focuses so intensely on creating the perfect marshmallow that when she loses focus for a second it goes up in flames. Percy creates equal amounts of charred bricks and perfectly toasted masterpieces. He shoves them both in his mouth before they can cool. 

The rain continues for the entire evening. By eight o’clock, Annabeth is restless. Percy is sprawled on the ground, his fingers absentmindedly twirling Annabeth’s hair as he half dozes. 

Annabeth tries to get comfortable next to him and winces. 

“What is it?” 

She pulls up her shirt, revealing a cut left by the monster. “Nothing. Just stings a bit.” 

Percy traces the wound lightly. “I think most of our ambrosia fell out earlier.”

“I’m fine.” Annabeth tries to pull her shirt down, but Percy is busily dampening some towels and sponging off the dried blood. 

“Am I a better nurse than Hazel?” Percy asks, concentrating on trying not to press too hard against the cut flesh.

“Hazel would have braided my hair after and told me stories about horses until I fell asleep.”

“Okay, so I’m not quite on Hazel’s level yet. But that will have to do.” Percy stuffs the bloodstained towel deep into his bag—hopefully to dampen the scent of demigod blood in case any more monsters were lurking—and sticks a band aid on Annabeth’s side.

She looks at the fish patterned band aid in amusement. It covered maybe an quarter of the cut’s actual length. “Remind me to pack actual bandages next time.”

“I had the apparently unrealistic hope that we wouldn’t need any on this trip.”

“Is there ever a time where we don’t get in trouble?”

Percy screws his face into a mock-thoughtful expression. “I think….no. There’s not.”

Annabeth pulls her shirt back down. “At least it wasn’t too much trouble this time.” 

She stretches out on her sleeping bag. “It’s a shame electronics are too risky. I could really use a movie marathon right now.”

“I could use a nap.” Percy flops next to her dramatically.

“The hike was barely five miles!”

“Five miles is a lot!” 

Annabeth smacks his arm with a pillow. “Some demigod you are. Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, defeated by a weekend hike.”

Percy grabs the pillow and covers his face with it. “You’re wounding my pride.”

“I know how to make you get over it,” Annabeth says mischievously. 

She sits up and puts one long leg over Percy’s hips, straddling him. Her hands creep upwards under his shirt, feeling his warm skin under her fingertips.  
Percy peeks out from under the pillow. “I’m listening.”

Annabeth drags her nails lightly down his stomach, hitching her thumbs in the waistband. “Well, there are a pretty limited amount of activities for us to do here.” She lets the waistband snap back in place and slides her hands back up, brushing her fingers over his hips and pushing his shirt up. She can see goose bumps starting to rise on his skin. 

“I brought a puzzle.” Percy was keeping a determinedly straight face, an impressive feat as Annabeth ducked her head and kissed lightly up his stomach, making the goose bumps more pronounced. 

“That does sound pretty appealing. But,” Annabeth runs her tongue across his hip bone, biting lightly. “I’m not really in the mood for a puzzle.”

“What are you in the mood for?” Percy closes his eyes, trying to keep his face straight and breathing even as Annabeth’s mouth leaves his stomach and presses against his neck.

“Mainly…you.”

“Me?”

“You.”

Percy’s hands are twitching at his sides, trying to resist the urge to grab Annabeth. He knows it’s not going to be avoidable for much longer. He can feel her thighs on either side of his hips, her stomach pressed against his, her hair brushing his face as her lips trail down his neck and over his collarbone. 

“I think my pride is still too wounded.”

“Oh really?” 

Annabeth places a series of kisses along his jaw line. Her teeth pull at his lower lip slightly before she sits up. Slowly, looking him straight in the eye, she wiggles out of her shirt and tosses it to a corner. 

Percy’s hands are itching to reach up and run over the muscled, scarred skin of her bare stomach, to feel the contrast of curves and hard muscle.  
As if reading his mind, Annabeth shrugs her shoulders out of the bra straps. It’s a sports bra—never count of Annabeth to be anything but practical and prepared for outdoor excursions—but Percy can still see cleavage poking out the top and the outline of hardened nipples pressing against the fabric.  
He feels her legs tighten around him for balance as she raises her arms, pulling the bra over her head. He’s reminded of when he tried to take off her sports bra after archery practice behind the cabins and it caught on her earrings. It was stuck over her face as they heard someone approaching and scrambled to get redressed. Percy has a brief urge to burst out laughing, but all his attention is on keeping a straight face.

Gods, she’s perfect, Percy thinks, balling his hands into fists. Warm bare skin from the waist up, the blue bandaid still stuck on her side. He’s tempted to let his fingers wander to her waist and get to work on her jeans; he can see the edge of her underwear peeking out. Blue.  
He smirks as the color registers. Blue. Annabeth has three pairs of blue underwear and Percy only sees them when she is determined to either tease him or fuck him senseless. Typically, both. 

There was last Valentine’s Day—Percy couldn’t help but notice the blue lace as he pushed it aside, on his knees in front of Annabeth as she balanced against the counter of the bar’s precariously locked bathroom. 

There was his birthday last year, when Annabeth gave him his present, said she had another, and led him to their dimly lit room. 

There was the firework show in July, where they spread a blanket on a secluded hill in Camp Half-Blood.

“How’s your pride feeling?” Annabeth asks casually, taking a hair tie from her pocket. She settles her weight over his hips and braids her hair languidly. Her fingers deftly sweep up the strands clinging to her bare breasts.

Percy’s nails dig into his palms. “It could be better.”

Annabeth wiggles her hips, feeling his increasing hardness underneath, and raises her eyebrows. “Really?” Percy nods silently, desperately. “Hmm…”

She flips her completed braid over her shoulder, giving him an unimpeded view of her torso. Still maintaining eye contact, she runs a hand down her body, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. She cups a breast in each hand, moving the weight around tantalizingly, and lightly squeezes her nipples. Her fingers trail down her stomach, disappearing beneath her jeans. When she raises it to her lips, Percy can see wetness glistening on two fingers.

Annabeth dips forward suddenly and kisses him, hard, and in his desperation Percy feels like it’s been eons since they’ve kissed. She has the taste of herself on his lips and Percy wants more. She grabs his hand and guides it up, closing his fingers over his breast.

Percy loses his internal struggle to maintain a cool exterior. Hooking one arm around her waist, he flips her underneath him. Her hands are roaming and greedy, tangled in his hair and shoved under his shirt. He can feel her breath coming hot and quick between kisses, hear her little sounds of want.

Her under-shirt explorations haven’t ceased, so he jerks it over his head as quickly as possible and then helps her shed her jeans. He tugs them down her legs roughly, the sight of the blue underwear doing nothing to abate his desire. 

Raindrops are falling on the tent with increasing intensity; Percy can feel a few icy drops plop on his back as he balances over Annabeth. Part of his mind jumps to packing a more waterproof tent next time, but most of it is occupied on putting his mouth on every part of her, all at once. It may be physically impossible, but he’ll be damned if he isn’t trying his best.

Her mouth is hard on his, impatient and intense. Reluctantly Percy breaks away from her lips, working his way down her neck. Her fingers are in his hair as his lips  
trail down her shoulder, past what Piper calls her “delts of doom”, alternating kisses and gentle bites down her breasts. 

Annabeth can barely stand the sight—Percy looking up through the fringe of his overgrown hair, sucking on one breast and kneading the other in his hand. He can feel her hips against his as she arches her back in pleasure. He takes her hardened nipple his teeth and tugs gently, feeling himself get even harder at her little moan of satisfaction. He swaps, mouthing his way to her other breast, and digs his hips into hers. She can feel his length directly between her legs and the combined sensation of that and the sucking is becoming unbearable.

Percy shuts his eyes, his mind blank except for the feel of Annabeth in his mouth and pressed against him. He feels her hands on his jaw and looks up; she is insistently pulling him towards her.

As content as he is to make out with her for endless amounts of time, Percy breaks away after a moment despite her grunt of annoyance. Her flushed cheeks and mussed hair are making her look adorably attractive.

“That puzzle is still an option,” Percy says, words muffled as he places kisses down her stomach. 

“Pass,” Annabeth’s eyes are closed, fingers pressing harder into his shoulder as he moves across her hips and to the band of her blue underwear. 

Propping himself on his elbows, Percy pulls them down slightly, kissing the crease of her thigh and hip. He can see the wetness that’s already dripped down the inside of her thigh. Lightly he runs his tongue over it, skirting around the center and going back up her hip. He does the same with the other side, carefully avoiding the spot Annabeth is not-so-subtly trying to steer his face to. He feels her shift and looks up; she’s propped up on her elbows and staring down at him.

“Get to it, Jackson,” she says authoritatively. Percy bats his eyes saucily and trails light bites down her inner leg and then up to her belly button. He makes an obvious point of avoiding what she wants. Annabeth flops back down with a groan of defeat mixed with arousal. 

“You’re the wors-“ Her sentence is drowned out by her sharp, surprised cry of pleasure as Percy finally runs his tongue firmly between her legs. Her nails are back into his shoulder and he feels her fingers jerk on his hair, but those are secondary concerns. The primary concern is getting Annabeth to make that sound again. 

He circles her tongue lightly around her clit, flicking the end gently. Encouraged by a low moan from Annabeth, he continues his circular pattern. One arm hooked around her leg, he reaches the other up to play with her chest, kneading and squeezing.  
He can feel her stomach tightening as her hips begin moving in rhythm to him; he can hear her breathing becoming harsher and more erratic as her grip on his hair tightens. He closes his eyes, focusing on the repetitive motion of his tongue and the warmth of her legs around him. He can feel her wetness dripping down his chin.  
She pushes her hips into his face, begging for more. 

“Don’t stop,” she says shakily, glancing down. Percy’s face is buried in her cunt, one cheek leaning slightly against her thigh, eyes closed as if he’s utterly content. 

Percy shakes his head slightly to agree that he won’t stop; Annabeth feels his slight stubble scratch her leg. The altered sensation shoots new feelings up her body and she moans again, tightening her grip on him. Percy thinks it’s a good thing they chose a secluded spot and he hoped there were no monsters left; anyone would be sure to hear her as he does his best to get a new sound out of her with every stroke. He switches from circles to quick, firm strokes and her hips convulsed as she let out the best sound yet. Pressed against the hard ground, Percy’s own arousal is becoming increasingly unbearable. 

He knows Annabeth was close. Her ragged breathing and quick, hot gasps and moans were telltale signs of hers. He releases her breast and wraps both arms around her legs for better stability, pressing down further into her and increasing his speed. She lets out another inhuman noise and he felt the sting of her nails on his shoulder; he knows there would be red marks later. Tongue aching and jaw burning, he keeps at it, looking up now and then to admire the mess of Annabeth hot and breathless. It was the perfect view—the soft curve of her stomach leading to the swell of her breasts and her eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

Soon, he felt her hips push up as her back arched, and she let out an moan as she came, shuddering and jerking her hips. They pressed upward for a long second as Percy gave some careful strokes to extend her peak, sucking lightly as she came back down and gave a few last shudders. He gave one last thick stroke as her final moan left her and he felt the tug at his face that meant she was trying to drag him back up for a kiss. Grinning and wholly satisfied with his work, Percy pulled himself upwards. She kissed him feverishly, ignoring the slick wetness coating his face. She could taste herself on him, slightly salty, mixed with the taste of him. 

“Am I still the worst?” Percy asks, smirking slightly. 

“You are if you stop kissing me.” Annabeth pulls him back to her. 

She stops a moment later, trailing fingers down his stomach to his jeans. “But, I think it’s your turn now.”

“Mmm, I’m not done with you though,” Percy says. He leans over to his backpack, fumbling around, as Annabeth unbuttons his jeans. He pulls them off quickly while Annabeth rearranges herself and the slightly messed up blankets. 

Percy drops back down over her, kissing up her neck again. She opens her legs slightly, letting him fit neatly between them. Stray raindrops were still leaking onto his back, but he was sufficiently distracted. 

Annabeth lets out a little grunt as he entered her, and Percy sighs in relief. There was nothing, just the sound of their breathing and the raindrops on the tent and the gentle rhythm of them moving together. 

Whatever Piper says about crazy sex positions, Annabeth thinks, there’s a lot to be said for being able to kiss your partner during it. She loves being able to watch Percy while they fuck—the way he closes his eyes and his jaw tightens during extra good moments, the way she can see the contrast of tanned skin and faint freckles, the way he grips her harder and moaned in her ear and kisses her sloppily, all technique lost in pleasure, the way his breathing quickens and he gasps her name raggedly, clutching her and pushing frantically and finally becoming still over her, letting out a few groans as he comes and collapses on top of her. 

Afterward, Annabeth runs her fingers through his hair as he rests his face on her chest, still sprawled on top of her. Stray raindrops are mixing with the sweat on his back, and their body heat has warmed up the tent considerably. 

“You know,” Percy says, pushing himself up so he can kiss her. “I still have that puzzle.”


End file.
